


Burning Under the Stars

by Julia_Skysong



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Anal Sex, Aziraphale goes feral, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), First Time, Grief, Life in Heaven, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Sex in Space, The Apocalypse that Did, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), heaven wins the war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-12-27 20:23:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21124697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julia_Skysong/pseuds/Julia_Skysong
Summary: Aziraphale reached for the globe, hoping beyond hope that his plan would work. But he had never used it before, and his fingers hesitated ever so slightly. Had he just moved a little faster, maybe things would be alright. He might have floated back down to earth and found a new receptive body. He might have found Crowley again. They might have been able to find Adam and stop the apocalypse…if only he had been more sure of himself. But we really can’t blame him. Rebelling against Heaven is a dangerous thing, after all.Uriel and Sandaphalon appeared out of nowhere, jerking him away at the last second.i.e., What would have happened if Aziraphale had never made it back to Crowley and the World Ended.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first explicit fic. Hope you guys like it. Please be nice.

Aziraphale reached for the globe, hoping beyond hope that his plan would work. But he had never used it before, and his fingers hesitated ever so slightly. Had he just moved a little faster, maybe things would be alright. He might have floated back down to earth and found a new receptive body. He might have found Crowley again. They might have been able to find Adam and stop the apocalypse…if only he had been more sure of himself. But we really can’t blame him. Rebelling against Heaven is a dangerous thing, after all. 

Uriel and Sandaphalon appeared out of nowhere, jerking him away at the last second. 

“Stop mucking about!” Sandaphalon said harshly. “Forget all these earth nonsense, hear? You can either fight for us, or against us, what’ll it be?” 

Aziraphale looked from the globe to the stern faces around him. Their hands burned into his arms as they held him in a death grip. He knew he had failed. He also knew, despite Crowley’s doubts, which Side would be victorious. The best thing at this point, he decided, was to find Crowley. Maybe there was still a chance. Maybe it wasn’t too late to leave, if not his original plan. 

With a quick miracle, Aziraphale donned the soldier’s uniform. The Angels released him, and he silently joined the ranks. Around him stirred an excited anticipation, millions of Angels ready to finally smite down the Enemy once and for all. But Aziraphale was still, thinking over everything he should have done differently and hoping it wasn’t too late. The waiting was painful. 

…

Adam tried his best. He really did. But he was only eleven, after all. And when the Four Horsemen were defeated and Gabriel and Beelzebub came to speak to him, he didn’t have a good way to counter their arguments. Gabriel promised a new world would come, one without pain and hardships. Beelzebub told him that he had the power to shape that new world to be whatever he liked, even an exact copy of the old one if he wanted. As Adam’s resolve crumbled, so did the grip of peace around the world. Chaos descended around them, as did millions of Angels and Demons. Desperately, Adam tried to stop it, tried to find his resolve for keeping the world going, for keeping Tadfield safe. The others gathered close in fear, begging him to do something. But at this point, there was nothing he could do. 

“What are you doing out here?” 

Adam looked up at the Angel who had spoken to him. This one looked nicer than Gabriel, and slightly out of place; a bit too nervous, and much too sad. 

“I’m sorry,” he cried, tears starting to spill over. “I tried to stop it, I didn’t mean for all this to happen!” 

With a start, Aziraphale realized he’d just found the antichrist, just minutes too late. He’d half-expected a monster child, a literal demon in true form what with the rate of destruction happening around the world. But he was just a kid, just a kid who wanted very much to go home. He was just another pawn in this great celestial game. 

“No,” he sighed. “I’m sorry. I should have been here. I was trying to stop it, I don’t know where I went wrong…” 

Actually, he did. Leaving Crowley is where he went wrong, Aziraphale realized. When he didn’t tell Crowley where the antichrist lived, when he told him the Arrangement was over, that their very friendship was over, and when he tried to rely on Heaven to do the right thing. That was where he had gone wrong. He had to find Crowley. Fast. 

“Right. Go on home, stay with your parents. Stay safe.” 

“How?” Adam yelled over the chaos. 

“You’re the antichrist. You can do anything. Just use it wisely.” 

He stretched his wings and shot into the sky, trying to orient himself towards London, helped by the big flaming circle of the M25. In his mind, Aziraphale reached out, trying to find Crowley, but there were too many demonic influences on earth to get a clear picture. The war raged in all dimensions at once, Angels and Demons fought on the ground, mid-flight, and up the sides of skyscrapers. Aziraphale saw none of this, wholly fixated on finding Crowley as he wove dangerously between the soldiers. His wings, aching from eons of inactivity, pushed him forward faster than he had ever flown before. He wasn’t sure exactly where to find Crowley, but he decided to stop at the bookshop first, so he could at least pick up the Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter. Although he was pretty sure he had understood most of it, there were still some passages that posed more questions than answers. Maybe it would help. Maybe there was still a chance, a chance at hope. 

Surprisingly, the fighting had not quite reached Soho. Yet the area was already a disaster, fish raining down and piling up on the streets, thieves looting the storefronts, a few stray Demons lurking in the shadows, desperate lovers enjoying a last few moments of pleasure, and…oh, but the charred remains of a very old bookshop. 

Aziraphale landed with a sickening thud outside the door, too stunned to control what his emotions were doing to the world around him. He raced inside, heart pounding with a growing sense of dread. Ash floated aimlessly between the shelves, pages so badly burned that he couldn’t even see what books they were from. Candles lay on their sides near the chalky runes, undoubtedly the cause of the fire. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called hopefully. 

No answer. His heart sank, realizing that the demon had probably already left for the stars, not caring about the world he was leaving behind. Sighing, Aziraphale turned to look for the prophecies. The desk where he had left it was a mess of papers and debris, but even after hurriedly going through it, there was nothing to be found. Nothing on the floor either. Finally, he gave up and quickly moved back toward the door, fully intending to keep searching for Crowley even without the book. Because maybe, just maybe, he was still on earth. 

A loud crunch beneath his boot stopped him short. Looking down, Aziraphale cried out in anguish and fell to his knees, desperately clutching a broken pair of sunglasses. 

“Crowley,” he cried. “Tell me you didn’t come!” 

Part of him felt glad to know he had come after all, that he really did care despite wanting to run away from it all. But he also couldn’t imagine what Crowley thought after seeing a shop on fire with no angel and heavenly runes on the ground. Shaking, Aziraphale clumsily rose to his feet and clambered out the door, taking off in the direction of Crowley’s flat. Surely, surely he would still be here. If he cared enough to come back, surely he hadn’t run off. But surely, surely he hadn’t done anything stupid. 

“Please be there,” Aziraphale muttered. “Please don’t be gone.” 

The doors to the flat opened before him automatically, not daring to remain closed against such a desperate angel. Aziraphale skidded to a halt on Crowley’s slippery floors. 

“Crowley!” he yelled frantically, rushing through all the big, empty rooms that Crowley never used. 

It took him a second to realize that he smelled something burned, and that it wasn’t a lingering residual from the bookshop. The door to Crowley’s office was cracked slightly, the only room he hadn’t ventured in yet. Aziraphale stood frozen to the spot, afraid to look. He knew Crowley wasn’t there. If Crowley had been here, then he would have answered by now with a snarky comment and a sarcastic smile. Instead, there was only silence and the putrid smell of something definitely not pleasant. Aziraphale did not want to look behind that door. But slowly, he forced his feet to move, one foot after the other, until he had his hand on the door. 

He saw only two things when he reluctantly pushed the door open. 

The first was a smoldering puddle of goo on the floor, still smoking slightly and giving off a demonic air. 

The second was a tartan thermos, sitting empty on the desk. 

All of his maybes, all the chances of things that might be, all of his hope was crushed in an instant. Aziraphale wasn’t aware of how he ended up on the floor, unable to make a sound. 

This was all his fault. 

He had blessed the water in the thermos.

He had willingly given it to Crowley. 

He had ended the Arrangement, turning his back on his one and only friend in the entire universe. This was a betrayal far worse than betraying Heaven, he realized.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he sobbed at the fermenting puddle. “I should never have given it to you. I should have run away with you, I shouldn’t have cared about the consequences. DAMN IT, even if I fell I should have said…I should have told you... Come back, Crowley, PLEASE, I need…” 

He stopped, choking back tears and words that he should have said but never did. But after all, it didn’t matter now, did it? 

A footstep behind him. Aziraphale whirled around, whipping out his sword defensively. A Demon raced toward him, screaming a war-cry of a long-forgotten civilization. Aziraphale wasted no time, swinging his sword and beheading him instantly, his merciless eyes blazing with fury as the Demon disintegrated before his eyes. Looking down at the pile of dust, Aziraphale realized that it had probably been a relatively painless death. But Holy Water…that must have been far worse. 

Shaking, Aziraphale stormed out of the apartment. He wanted to stay there longer. He wanted to get a drink and cry and scream and maybe take a nap. He wanted a lot of things, actually, but it was too late. Someone would notice if he didn’t rack up some sort of Demon-kill score. And it would be a good way to get rid of the raw emotions clawing at his chest. 

The next Demon to die would have a much more painful death.

…

Earth became a smoldering ruin of its former glory as Angels and Demons used supernatural forces to cause as much damage as possible on the other side. Earthquakes, fires, floods and avalanches ripped through the surface. It was a terrifying sight indeed. In the end, Heaven won, just as Aziraphale knew, and feared, they would. But it had come at a cost. Not one human had survived. Not even with Adam, with his antichrist powers. Heaven had claimed their souls, while the others had been locked in Hell, sealed for all eternity with Lucifer and the rest of the surviving Demons. Aziraphale was pretty sure the Almighty had created another dimension entirely to lock them inside. In a way, in a very tiny and minuscule opinion, he was glad Crowley wasn’t trapped with them. But he still wished things were different. 

New earth was basically the same as the old one. It wasn’t simply the war-ravaged heap of rubble miracles back together, but a completely new planet, young and brimming with life. The souls of the humans were brought back home, everyone from the original Adam and Eve all the way to Adam the antichrist and the Them. Not everything was exactly the same, of course. Five generations of people, some of them complete strangers, couldn’t exactly live in the same house anymore. So the streets were stretched and the buildings grew, and everything seemed just the way it was, only bigger and brighter and more beautiful. 

Except the bookshop. 

“There now,” Gabriel said, patting him on the shoulder encouragingly. “You still have your shop, see? And that sushi restaurant you liked is right down the street. Not so bad after all, is it?” 

“No,” Aziraphale said, forcing a smile as he stood on the threshold, peering inside. 

Gabriel pushed his way in and miracled a nice hook, hanging a bright, shiny medal on the wall. Aziraphale purposefully looked away. 

“Tell you what, most of your human friends are probably up here too if you look around long enough. That is, if you did a good job being their friend.” 

“I always did my best for the Plan,” he said bleakly, trying very hard not to think of the friend he had failed, the only friend that mattered. 

“You sure did,” Gabriel said, admiring the medal. “Hey, you deserve this one. Half a million Demons single-handedly. And no miracles! I don’t know how you did it.” He shook his head in amazement. “Let us know if there’s anything you need.” 

Gabriel left, though Azirphale wasn’t entirely aware of it. He wandered through the bookshelves, examining everything in a daze. It had been his home for over a hundred years. Since he had been the only owner of the building, it had been left untouched. Everything was exactly how it should be, except for that damned medal he had been awarded for the highest death toll. He had regained the Angels’ respect and he suspected they would leave him in peace now. If anything, this should feel more like home. It was certainly better than he had imagined it could be. There was still wine and good music and they weren’t being forced to watch Sound of Music over and over again. 

But in another soul-barring sort of way, it was far worse than he had ever thought. 

He sank into the couch, staring at the empty armchair across from him. Part of him wanted a drink, but he was already too tired and too numb to miracle one up. He just sort of sat there, staring into space and trying not to think. In fact, he was trying so hard not to let his mind dissolve into a spiral that he didn’t even notice the days coming and going around him. One could say he was doing a pretty good job of it. 

Until he didn’t. 

Suddenly the thoughts started flooding in, try as he might to stop them. But it was like trying to build a dam against a raging waterfall. They came so quickly and so fast that they knocked him over onto the floor, knuckles white as they dug into the carpet as the thoughts drowned him. 

No more long walks through St. James’ Park. 

No more trips to the theater. 

No more discussions about famous authors and how their works had been butchered into films. 

No more helping each other out with little miracles and temptations. 

No more dining at the Ritz. 

No more late nights drinking wine. 

No more Crowley. Not ever. 

He didn’t care about Albert Hall or Mozart or classical music. 

He didn’t care about his favorite restaurants. 

He didn’t care about gravlax in dill sauce. 

He didn’t care about old bookshops. 

He didn’t care about dolphins or whales or gorillas. 

He didn’t care about Stephen Sondheim. 

What he did care about, very, very deeply, was Crowley. But now he was gone, and it was too late to do anything about it. The bookshop stood hauntingly silent and empty. There were so many memories here, and yet they were missing from this new replacement. He couldn’t stand it. Aziraphale gasped from the pain of it all, biting his lip to keep from crying out. This was paradise reborn, a new Eden. It certainly wouldn’t look right for an Angel, specifically one who had just killed half a million Demons, to start screaming. He had to leave. He had to get out. Now. 

With a rush of determination, he scrambled to his feet and started searching the shelves. He knew where he wanted to go, just not how to get there. He pulled out a couple of maps from an astronomy book and dashed outside. It was night, several evenings after the battle had finally ended. Aziraphale stared up at the stars, looking back down at his maps for reference, and launched out into the sky. With every beat of his wings he fought hard to keep the emotions down. He couldn’t lose it. Not yet. 

Finally, he landed on a planet undiscovered by human scientists, as close to Alpha Centauri as he could possible be. The two stars burned painfully close, but it didn’t matter. Aziraphale fell on all fours and screamed. 

“Why have you done this to me?” he yelled, voice raw and grating as he instinctively looked upward. “This isn’t fair! Paradise? What paradise have you created? For everyone but me?!? Do you not care??? How did this even happen?!? This wasn’t supposed to be possible, and yet it was??? How could you do that?? How could you give me everything and then take it away like he meant nothing??!?!!” 

His voice echoed into the void, disappearing into the emptiness, heard by no one. He sobbed into the ground, trying desperately to get rid of these emotions. He couldn’t live like this on new earth. 

“I’m sorry, Crowley. I should have gone with you. We should have been here together. Our own paradise.” 

Behind him there was a surprising whoosh of wings, and feet hit the ground. Aziraphale got to his feet and bristled his wings angrily. 

“God damn it, Gabriel, leave me alo-!” he yelled, spinning around. 

He froze. 

“C-Crowley?” 

“Angel,” Crowley breathed. 

They weren’t quite sure who moved first, or who fell into who’s arms. It just sort of happened, and they were glad. Crowley’s long arms snaked around Aziraphale and squeezed him tightly, afraid to let go. The emotions beat against the angel’s chest like a hammer, so thick and heavy that he thought he might actually discorporate if he didn’t do something. He raised his head from Crowley’s shoulder, eyes locking within seconds. Crowley looked like he was about to say something, but Aziraphale didn’t let him. 

He did the one thing that he’d been wanting to do for decades, if not centuries. Aziraphale finally, finally kissed him. Crowley let out a feeble grunt of surprise as their lips pressed together, and for all of half a second Aziraphale feared he’d misjudged. Only half a second. Then Crowley’s fingers curled around his hair as he pressed in, lips parting as he deepened the kiss. It did not take long for the cold emptiness of space to be replaced by the loving warmth and heat of each other. Aziraphale could have stayed there forever, forgetting all about new Heaven and new earth and Gabriel and that stupid medal, getting completely lost in Crowley…Oh, Crowley, kissing every inch of his skin and showing him just how sorry he was, showing how deeply in love he was… The thought made his heart flip and heat curl deep in his stomach. He could have stayed there forever, but Crowley had questions, and pushed back ever so slightly. 

“The fire…” he croaked, barely trusting himself with the words that had been waiting days to spill out. He leaned his forehead against the angel, lips nearly brushing against each other as he spoke. “You…what happened? How are you here??” 

“The fire didn’t kill me,” Aziraphale said breathlessly. “I was sort of…pushed into the portal, rather.” 

“What portal?” 

“I tried contacting the Almighty. One last attempt to stop Armageddon. Didn’t work.” He sniffed and stared into Crowley’s golden eyes, assuring himself that he was real. 

“It wasn’t Hellfire?” Crowley asked, even though he knew the answer. He needed to hear it.

“No. I…I tried to come to you. I tried to come back…even without a body. Uriel and Sandalphon got me.” 

Crowley laced their fingers together, and Aziraphale thought he might just melt at the touch. 

“I should have fought,” he said thickly. “I should have tried to come anyway, I should have…”

“Shhh,” Crowley whispered, giving his hands a squeeze. “There was nothing you could have done. You’re here now.” 

Aziraphale nodded, leaning into Crowley’s every touch, drawn to him like a magnet. “But how are you still alive??” 

“I fled,” Crowley said simply, looking slightly confused. “Once it really started going I got out of there as quick as I could.” 

“But…I went to your apartment…the Holy Water…”  
“Ligur,” Crowley explained, a flicker of a smile darting across his face. “Not me.” 

Aziraphale sighed in relief. “Thank Heavens. I thought…I thought I’d lost…” He shook his head, unable to say it. 

“Never crossed my mind,” Crowley said firmly, tilting his chin up to look him in the eye. “I only ever intended it as a weapon of defense, not suicide. Surely you knew that?” Aziraphale shook his head. “Angel,” he said softly, with all the tenderness in the universe. “How could I leave you like that?” 

“I love you,” Aziraphale gasped in a rush, unable to hold it back any longer. 

“Well it would be fairly awkward if you didn’t at this point,” Crowley said, trying to ignore the blush creeping over his face. 

“I should have told you earlier. I just…I thought it would make it easier. But it didn’t. It made it worse. I thought you’d died and I hadn’t told you…I messed everything up. I should have told you where Adam was too, and…” 

“I love you too, angel.” 

Aziraphale blinked, every thought in his brain suddenly going quiet. 

“You…what?” 

Crowley wasn’t good with words. (Neither was Aziraphale, to be honest.) But he was certainly good at taking opportunities, and Aziraphale’s half-open mouth was a golden one. He closed the few inches between them, tongue sliding effortlessly into the angel’s mouth just as other Efforts were being made elsewhere. Now that he had taken the lead, he kissed hungrily, desperate to show just how much Aziraphale meant to him. They bumped into a rock and made no effort to move, satisfied to press against each other with everything in them, wanting no distance between them. Not anymore. Those days, my friends, were most definitely over. 

Aziraphale wrapped his wings protectively around them, drawing Crowley closer. Crowley moaned as their wings brushed together, sending a cascade of fireworks down his nerves and into his back. As enticing as Aziraphale’s mouth was, he wanted, no, needed more. The angel’s noise of protest at lack of kissing quickly turned into an erotic moan of pleasure as Crowley worked his way up his jaw, forked tongue wrapping around his ear. 

“How long, love?” Aziraphale asked, his voice hot against Crowley’s shoulder. There was no resisting such a question when it was asked like that. 

“Eden,” Crowley confessed, dipping down Aziraphale’s neck. He gasped in surprise, though it wasn’t entirely clear whether it was the answer or the tongue that produced such a reaction. “I was smitten, instantly.” 

“You loved me that early?” Aziraphale managed, voice barely a whisper, low and heavy and full of desire. Crowley could feel himself getting harder, and his hips twitched forward involuntarily. 

“Ah-ah…I don’t think it was purely love,” he hissed, taking his hands off the angel for the first time since their reunion, bracing himself against the rock. Aziraphale’s eyes had darkened, overcome with a new sensation Crowley had never seen before. “More of a crush, at first. It wasn’t ’till Rome that I truly fell in love with you.” 

“Oysters,” Aziraphale said. His voice was drippingly sweet, almost salivating. But his mind was clearly far from food, as he tilted his pelvis upward ever so slightly, rubbing against Crowley.

Crowley swallowed forcefully, unable to tear his gaze away from Aziraphale’s eyes, reflecting the twin stars of Alpha Centauri. The tension in his jeans was driving him mad, but he forced himself to stay still, not wanting to go too fast. Aziraphale stayed perfectly still beneath him, breathing shallowly, staring at him like he was some masterpiece of Bake Off, only a million times better.

“I’d nearly given up,” Crowley said, trying to get his mind to just focus, damn it. “I didn’t think you had any interest even as friends. And then you up and ask me to lunch…” 

“Uh huh.” 

Crowley stared at him for a solid minute. “Are you listening?” 

Aziraphale’s eyes moved then, traveling slowly down the length of Crowley’s body, drinking everything in. Crowley couldn’t remember how words worked, making an unintelligible noise somewhere in the depths of his throat instead. Aziraphale looked back up at that, one eyebrow raised questioningly. And good Lord, Crowley thought he might explode if he looked at him too long. One hand moved slowly onto his hip, and he shuddered not unpleasantly. 

“If you’re willing…” Aziraphale said slowly. 

“Please,” Crowley hissed through clenched teeth, falling onto him as he lost every last ounce of self-control. 

Their lips burned as they crashed together, tongue around tongue, craving for more and more and more and Crowley didn’t think he’d ever get enough of this. Somehow their clothes were gone, though neither remembered miracling them away, just hot skin pressing against each other, muscles tensing and burning at every touch as Aziraphale pushed slightly away from the rock, leaning up into him. Crowley’s hands went wild, running over the angel’s chest, the soft curve of his stomach, the smoothness of his back, and oh…the round plush curve of that delicious ass. He’d admit to staring over the edge of his glasses a few times, watching keenly as Aziraphale bent over to pick a book from the floor and straining to put it back on a high shelf he could barely reach. He’d dreamed of what they might look like, free from the confines of those horribly itchy-looking pants. He wanted to see now, but that would require breaking the kiss and he currently had a very nice hold on Aziraphale’s tongue that he was rather reluctant to let go of. He settled for a nice squeeze instead and…

Oh

_FUCK._

It must have triggered something because next thing Crowley knew he was the one with his back against the rock, breath knocked out of him both physically and otherwise. This was not, he decided as Aziraphale looked down on him with that needy look in his eyes, a bad position to be in. If anything, it gave him a better grip on his ass. It seemed to be a turn-on, and he was more than happy to give it a good kneading, prompting moans of delight from both of them. Aziraphale’s hands slid down his sides, gently tracing his hip bones as he moved down the pelvis, spreading outward for a moment before coming to rest on his thighs. Crowley was throbbing. This was worth breaking the kiss. 

“Angel,” he panted. Aziraphale started kissing his neck, working down to his bare chest. “If you don’t touch me right now I’ll—f-fuck!” 

Aziraphale had moved his hands, finally, cupping Crowley with all the gentleness in the world, yet it still managed to send fire through his veins. He smiled rather coyly. 

“That’s not a bad idea,” he said easily. 

Good Lord, it was almost sinful the way he was looking at him. Crowley accepted that his brain probably wouldn’t be thinking straight for days. With one hand, Aziraphale began long, slow strokes up his cock, the other snaking under and hovering tantalizingly close. 

“Do you…?” he started to ask. 

“Fuckyes,” Crowley whined in one breath. 

Aziraphale didn’t hesitate any longer, and Crowley’s head arched back with a cry. His eyes closed against all the sensations. He didn’t know how the angel knew how to do all the right things, but it didn’t matter. It felt so good, and so right, and was just so overwhelmingly much. Hot tears sprang to his eyes before he could stop them. 

“Darling, are you alright?” Aziraphale asked, hands stilling, though they stayed in place. 

_Darling._

“Ngk, I’m fine, I’m fine.” 

He was not at all fine. The love of his life, who he thought was dead, who he only dreamed could ever love him back, was currently on top of him with one hand curled around his cock and two fingers up his ass. 

“Am I hurting you?” 

His grip started to loosen, concern suddenly his only thought. Concern for Crowley. The poor demon wondered if there would ever come a day when he stopped feeling himself suddenly plunging deeper and deeper in love with this stupid, beautiful angel. But after 6,000 years, he supposed the answer was no. 

“No, no,” Crowley promised. “I just never thought this would happen. And I love you so fucking much it hurts.” 

Aziraphale smiled gently and yep, there it was again. Like missing the last step as you come downstairs and nearly fall, heart racing with adrenaline. His fingers resumed their work and Crowley whined softly in appreciation. 

“You have no idea how much I love you,” he said softly. 

“I don’t know, you’re…ah!…doing a pretty good job of showing me,” Crowley wheezed, hands gripping his shoulders tightly. “How…long?” 

“It was gradual. But it started around the Bastille I think. Maybe just before. But I didn’t realize it ‘till 1941.” 

“World War II?” Crowley questioned. 

“You saved me from the Nazis,” he reminded gently. “My books too. And it was the first time since our fight, and after everything you still came…You were always there when I needed you.” 

“Of course I was, I was in love with you.” 

Aziraphale leaned down, kissing him softly on the forehead for just a moment. He repositioned himself, hands stopping once more as he spread Crowley’s legs just a bit farther. Crowley sucked in sharply as he entered, sternly trying to tell his legs not to give out on him now. 

“Sensitive, aren’t you?” Aziraphale said, teasing him lightly. 

“Yeah, no shit, I waited 6,000 bloody years for this.” 

“Lusting at Eden?” 

“Thought crossed my mind,” Crowley mumbled. “If I didn’t think you’d have killed me…” 

“Probably would have put a damper on our relationship.” 

He started to thrust his hips gently, and Crowley let out another breathy moan. Aziraphale cradled his head with one arm, bringing them closer together. 

“Oh, darling,” he breathed into his ear. “You feel divine.” 

That just about did him in, a broken cry strangled in his throat. Aziraphale started moving faster and thrusting deeper, his free hand gravitating back to Crowley’s own red, swollen cock. Crowley could feel it straining for a release, but he practically screamed at it to hold out, and not ruin the moment too early. Of all the scenarios he’d devised and then subsequently chickened out of, he hadn’t ever planned on it being quite like this. But this…this was better than he’d ever dreamed. His hands moved down Aziraphale’s back, pressing down in the space between his wings experimentally. The noise that tore from the angel’s throat was positively exquisite, as was the sudden swell of his cock, which Crowley could feel every inch. 

“C-Crowleyyy,” Aziraphale whined, sinking his head into his shoulder as he bucked enthusiastically. 

“Alright, a-angel?” Crowley all but gurgled.

“Go—“ He swallowed almost painfully. “Yes. Stars above, yes.” 

The stars around them almost did seem to glow brighter, and a new one may have exploded into existence a little ways off. The little planet they were on seemed to start spinning faster than it’s normal rotation, or maybe that was just Crowley’s head. There was only one thought orbiting his brain currently. 

“I love you,” he gasped, voice hitching almost pitifully. 

“I—oh good lor—ah…love you,” Aziraphale groaned. His breathing had gotten faster, his thrusts more erratic. “Darling…”

Crowley’s wings flapped uselessly behind him, completely out of control as the heat seared through him. And he thought ‘dear’ had turned him on. His muscles clenched involuntarily and Aziraphale nearly shouted. 

“I…gah…fuck!” 

That did it. Crowley came violently, back arching up to meet Aziraphale and screaming his name into oblivion. It felt like drowning and breathing again all at the same time. Aziraphale cradled him, holding him close even as he got off almost simultaneously. They lowered cautiously to the ground subconsciously, curled around each other in a messy tangle of arms and legs and letting the coolness of space wash over them. When Crowley finally back to reality, he realized his head was resting on Aziraphale’s chest, and he could hear his heartbeat. Aziraphale’s white wings were curled ‘round them both. They stayed that way for awhile, neither wanting to break the spell. It was just them, and the shining glory of Alpha Centauri above.


	2. Chapter 2

Someone had to break the silence. They both knew it. Still, it took at least an hour before Aziraphale finally voiced the question he knew was on both their minds. 

“Now what?” 

Crowley groaned, rousing himself from his state of near-sleep. “Do we have to address that now?” 

“My absence will be noticed,” Aziraphale said quietly. 

“Really? In eternal paradise? You don’t have any more assignments now, surely?” 

“Well…” Aziraphale squirmed uncomfortably. “I sort of…got an award.” 

“An award?” Crowley twisted so he look up at him. “What kind of award?” 

“Bravery in battle type thing,” Aziraphale said quickly. “Nothing too important, but it’s not like people will just leave me alone completely like they did…” 

“Battle as in…THE battle? Armageddon battle?” 

“Erm…yes.”

“They gave out medals? Oh, what am I saying. Of course they did. Gabriel was probably in charge of the whole thing, wasn’t he?” 

Aziraphale nodded sullenly. “I didn’t want it.” 

“I can’t imagine Gabriel giving you a medal,” Crowley frowned. “What was it for?” 

Aziraphale was silent, the pain of the battle, the horrible deaths he had caused, all coming back to him. 

“I don’t remember most of it.” 

“Long title?” 

“No…I meant the battle. I sort of…blacked out I think.” 

Crowley raised himself up on one elbow, watching him closely. “What was the medal for?” he asked carefully. 

Aziraphale took in a shaky breath. There was no use hiding it. It was nothing to be ashamed of, really. They’d been demons. They’d deserved it. 

“Highest death toll,” he said quietly. 

“Wow, impressive,” Crowley said, genuinely admiring but keeping his voice low. 

“Half a million,” Aziraphale said, answering the question before it came. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to remember. It wasn’t the actual killing of demons, he realized. It was the overwhelming grief that came with losing Crowley. And even though he knew that Crowley was alive, that he hadn’t died by holy water, he hated even the memory of that feeling. 

Crowley was silent for a long time. Angel to demon ratio was a solid 2:1, so the odds were pretty well stacked, even if it was in Heaven’s favor. So for Aziraphale to kill half a million…no wonder people would notice his absence on earth. He’d be a celebrity among the angels. Gabriel wouldn’t just respect him, he might even be a little scared of him. 

“How on earth did you…” Crowley started, but then stopped abruptly. “Ligur. You found Ligur thinking it was me and…”

“I lost it,” Aziraphale said brokenly. “I didn’t know what to do with myself…”

“Oh, angel.” 

Crowley leaned down and kissed him gently, feeling his soft lips brush against his own. 

“The point is,” Aziraphale sighed, pulling away slightly. “Is that I can’t hide out here on this planet forever.” 

Crowley sighed and lay down again. “I suppose you could come visit every now and again,” he said weakly. 

“I don’t want that,” Aziraphale said. Crowley froze, tense for moment. “No, no, not in that way, dearest. I would just rather spend more time with you.” 

“Oh,” was all Crowley could think to say as he relaxed. 

“And there’s no way to sneak you in. You’re a demon and they’re all supposed to be gone. You’d be surrounded in minutes.” 

“Hmm,” Crowley agreed. “Unless,” he said suddenly, sitting up. “Unless I wasn’t a demon.” 

Aziraphale sat up reluctantly. “But you are a demon,” he said. 

“But what if I wasn’t?” 

“I…I’m not sure I follow. You can’t become an angel again…”

“I don’t need to be an angel. I need to be human.” 

Aziraphale stared at him in shock. “But you’d be mortal!” 

“Not anymore,” Crowley said, grabbing his hand in his excitement. “We’re in eternity now. Nobody’s mortal. I could slip right under the radar, live out the rest of my days in the bookshop. No one would even know.” 

“And what if you’re wrong?” Aziraphale asked, hugging his knees to his chest uncertainly. “What if they catch you? I can’t…I can’t lose you again, Crowley.” 

Crowley softened. “I don’t want to lose you either. Which is why I’m saying this. How often do you think you’d be able to sneak out here? How often before you’re caught? Angel, it’s the only way.” 

Aziraphale thought for a long time. Their options were certainly limited now that the world had ended. Besides, Adam had managed to get in and stay undetected. Aziraphale had seen him only once, just after the creation of new earth and before Gabriel had taken him to the bookshop. He’d been playing with his friends, along with Dog of course, and had waved cheerfully as Aziraphale passed them. His aura indicated a perfectly normal human. And if it had worked for the antichrist, then surely it would work for Crowley as well. Slowly, he nodded. 

With a snap of Crowley’s fingers, they were standing and dressed in their old clothes. Aziraphale bit back a wistful sigh. If this plan worked, it wouldn’t be the last time he saw Crowley naked. The thought sent a chill up his spine. 

Hastily, he closed his eyes, focusing every single thought. Crowley, human. No wings, no demonic powers. Hazel eyes that looked almost golden when the late afternoon sun hit them just right. Suspicion sliding off him like water slides off a duck. Crowley, an ordinary human who had always been destined for Heaven. Crowley with a new human name: Anthony C.J. Ashtoreth, of absolutely no relation to the demon Crowley whatsoever. Crowley, who despite being completely and normally human, would miraculously survive being unprotected in space for a few minutes. 

He snapped his fingers. 

Crowley hissed painfully, and when Aziraphale opened his eyes, the wings were gone and hazel eyes stared back at him lovingly. His aura was no different than any other random human on new earth. They smiled at each other. 

“I think it worked,” Aziraphale said, taking both hands in his. 

“Only one way to find out,” Crowley said, shifting nervously from foot to foot. “If it doesn’t…”

“It will,” Aziraphale said resolutely. “It has too.” 

“I know. But if it doesn’t, I need you to know this was worth it.” 

Aziraphale swallowed, wondering if maybe they could have waited a few more days before trying anything this risky. There were a lot of things he still wanted to do to Crowley, and vice versa.

“I know. But it WILL work.”

Crowley kissed him once more, and Aziraphale wondered, if they survived this, if he would ever get used to the lurch in his chest and the butterflies in his stomach. If they had another 6,000 years of eternity, would he ever not be swept off his feet each time? The answer was probably no. 

He snapped again, and they landed outside the bookshop on new earth. He looked around anxiously. Adam was sitting on the steps, Dog gnawing on a bone at his feet. There was no one else around. 

“Hi,” Adam grinned. 

“Who’s this?” Crowley asked. 

“Oh, that’s the antichrist,” Aziraphale said casually. 

“The wot?” Crowley’s eyebrows raised two inches. 

“He’s fine,” Aziraphale reassured him. 

“I’m human now,” Adam said. “Always was. We had a bit of time to figure it out. Trust Wensleydale to ask the hard questions of whether an antichrist goes to Heaven or Hell when it’s all over. I figured I’d rather just be human since I started Armageddon already.” 

“That…that was smart,” Crowley said. He glanced over his shoulder worriedly. 

“They won’t come for you,” Adam smiled. “I still kept some of my influential powers. Enough to turn away any curious eyes. I put one on you, too.”

“How did you know?” Aziraphale asked.

“I saw you the other day, just sitting in the bookshop. You looked even more sad than the first time. And I wondered, if we’re in heaven, why is an angel sad? Brian’s the one who actually figured it out. He said that’s what they would have felt like if I had been left behind.”

Crowley grinned. “I like your friends.” 

“I’ll bring them around sometime,” Adam promised. “If you don’t mind us hanging around, that is…” 

“Oh no, of course not,” Aziraphale assured him. “We’d love to have some company. I doubt we’ll be going out much.” 

“Er…we won’t?” Crowley said weakly. 

“At least until we know the other Angels won’t recognize you.” 

“Oh. Oh that.” 

“Great,” Adam grinned. “Next week good?” 

“We don’t have any plans,” Aziraphale smiled. 

“Brian does,” he laughed. “Our ice cream shop got updated. It’s got over 31 flavors now. He’s going nuts.” 

“Wonderful invention, ice cream,” Aziraphale nodded understandingly. “Just give us a ring when you plan on coming.” 

“Got it. See ya around.” 

He waved and skipped off down the road, Dog following happily. 

“Nice kid,” Crowley said. “Warlock around by any chance?” 

“Haven’t gone looking yet,” Aziraphale said, opening the bookshop. “Maybe we’ll go out later.” 

“Right, of course. We have a lot of fucking to catch up on.” 

Aziraphale turned to look at him sharply, a bit caught off guard. Crowley realized what he said and blushed furiously. 

“I didn’t mean…ngk…I meant to say we have a lot to fucking catch up on,” he babbled.

A bastard of a smile flicked across Aziraphale’s face. He closed the door behind him and drew the shades. 

“My words just got tangled,” Crowley continued miserably. “Sorry, I just…”

“Really, my dear,” Aziraphale said soothingly, smoothing the front of Crowley’s jacket. “I’m fine either way.” 

“Ngk.” 

…

Gabriel whistled cheerfully as he made his way through Soho. It had been a nice week, what with the freedom from fighting the Enemy and all that. There was still work to be done, of course, only now it was more of a pleasant variety. Most of the angels had gotten reassigned to various positions throughout new Heaven and new Earth, mostly to help the humans adjust to their new eternal lives. And of course, some got promotions in order to fill the gaps of their fallen brethren, permanently destroyed at the hands of Demons. But the choir had expanded exponentially, much to Uriel’s delight, so there was always that. 

He was thinking of organizing some form of celebration, once the humans had adjusted. Everyone was happy, but still in a bit of a daze, not quite sure if it was really happening. A good victory party should do the trick. There were quite a few chefs around that could cook up quite a feast with a few miracles on their side, a spattering array of dishes from ancient Egypt to the modern day American burger. Gabriel wasn’t too keen on food, but he knew the humans would be, even if they didn’t technically need to eat anymore. Musicians would also be needed. There were a few bards from the Middle Ages who’d managed to get in, and although the more recent bands had gone to...well, the other destination, they had managed to get their hands on one Ed Sheeran. He’d need some humans to help him figure out who was popular though. 

The key to this celebration was a speech. And who better to make it than the angel victorious himself?

Gabriel wasn’t used to giving up the spotlight, but he did feel (for once) that Aziraphale deserved it. His battle performance was, admittedly, extremely impressive, and Gabriel couldn’t believe that he’d called him soft. (But don’t mistake that feeling for one of regret. Gabriel has never apologized for anything in his life, and that wasn’t about to start now.) deserved it.Half a million. He shook his head in awed astonishment, not for the first time that week. Most of the angels had averaged at about 2,000 kills, with the second highest at 10,000 (Michael). 

Yes, a good speech from the war hero would be a nice addition to the party. 

The curtains were drawn across all the windows, which seemed somewhat strange, but Gabriel advanced confidently anyways. He was just about to knock when he caught a glimpse through a small gap in the shades. His jaw dropped, much further than a normal human body would typically allow. 

The angel in question lay draped most improperly across the couch, sweating, flushed red, and shirt half-way unbuttoned. He was moaning quite indecently, making sounds that Gabriel didn’t even know existed. For a moment, he nearly thought Aziraphale was sick, wound left untreated from the battle, until he caught sight of the mess of red hair between his legs. 

A firm, chilled hand gently pulled him away from the door. 

“I think it’d be best if he’s left alone for a bit.” 

Gabriel turned to face her, completely slack-jawed. “But…but Lord, he’s…he’s…it’s not right!” 

“If it’s good enough for my humans, then is it wrong for my angels?” She asked with a slight smile. 

“Yes, but…but it’s with a human.” 

“And?” 

Gabriel cleared his throat awkwardly and tried to compose himself. “I had just been wondering…well, I was going to ask him for a speech at the party…” 

“He’s done so much, I think he deserves a rest,” She said kindly. 

“It’s been a week…” 

“Yes, but he’s almost lost his beloved.” 

“Is…is that why he didn’t want the world to end?”

She nodded. Gabriel frowned, trying his very best to grasp the concept. He wasn’t very successful, but at least he tried. 

“I would give him a few decades,” She added. “Let him enjoy eternity for a bit.” 

Gabriel nodded obediently, still looking slightly confused, and started off to look for Michael. She’d make a good speech. God watched him go, making sure he would do as told, before making sure the shades were drawn a bit tighter around the bookshop.

…

In 6,000 years, Aziraphale never did get used to the lurch in his chest and the butterflies in his stomach every time Crowley kissed him. He really was swept off his feet each time. 

For Crowley, while it didn’t happen every single day, there were still times when his stomach dropped and he felt like was falling in love all over again. 

So the answer was no, they never did get used to it. And that was completely fine with both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God knows and She's totally a shipper, lol. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Leave a kudos and/or comment if you enjoyed, and follow me on Tumblr @julia-skysong-fanficauthor to watch for more of my Good Omens fics!


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